Memento Mori
by Project 0506
Summary: At the end of Weiss Kreuz, Weiss and Schwartz all die.  The afterlife won't know what hit it.  Xover with Yami no matsuei
1. Those Despised of God

"God hates you."

"How awful." The scratching of pen on paper did not falter.

"No. I mean it" A lone eye darted about frantically, searching for eavesdroppers. "He does. I can tell."

"Lovely," Tatsumi intoned.

"Not really." At this Farfarello's voice dropped conspiratorially. "It's the only thing that hurts. The only thing that still hurts."

"Yes well, we all have our pain. Now if you would excuse me I have reports to finish."

The ex-assassin tilted his head slightly and watched the secretary work in silence for a few seconds. "He really does hate you, you know."

"_Mister_ Farfarello. As you can see I am _very_ busy and-"

"You work for him right? For God? I bet your paycheck sucks."

Tatsumi opened his mouth to give this newly dead a taste of what the Summons Section of the Justice Department feared of the shadow master, then suddenly stopped himself. "It does actually. It's a week of negotiations to even be considered for a raise."

Farfarello nodded sympathetically. "I bet it's not nearly enough to compensate you for having to deal with these guys." He gestured to the rest of the office area.

A large crash sounded from somewhere out of sight. "Sorry!" Around a corner peered cheerful, purple eyes, eyes most likely belonging to the apologize-er. "Nothing's broken!" Five more crashes punctuated his claim, each louder than the previous. "Um... Nothing's broken badly?" Something sounded like an explosion in the hallway. "I can fix it!" 

"Baka!" A small blond boy yelled. "If you would just do your paperwork instead of fooling around, this wouldn't have happened!"

"But...but _Hisko-oo-ka..._"

"And..." Tatsumi's attention snapped back to the pale, scarred man perched on his desk. "And I'll bet..." Farfarello regarded his new-found brother of God-hates-me-ness. "I'll bet that your office budget is _tiny_. Never can fully cover the expenses and they never increase it." He had Tatsumi's full attention now.

"Every single time I put in a form for a budget raise, I'm turned down."

"That's because you don't have that guy do it." Farfarello pointed to where the purple eyed brunette was being chewed out by his partner.

"What about Tsuzuki?"

"God likes him. I can smell it." Jei Farfarello sniffed the air like a predator sensing his favorite prey. "Yes, God definitely likes that one. And the little bond boy too. God likes cute things." He nodded, as if confirming his own words. The brown-haired secretary watched him warily. "You don't have to tell me. I know."

"You know what?"

"He gets away with everything, doesn't he? Breaks things, destroys places, screws up. But I bet God turns a blind eye. Makes you clean up all the mess."

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed and light glinted off his thin glasses. "Tsuzuki..." he said slowly, "does tend to be...destructive. And he does get away with a lot..."

"Because God _likes_ him. If you did the same thing..."

"I'd get my pay docked." Tatsumi remembered all the times while he was partnered with Tsuzuki that his paycheck suffered from the Shinigami's stupidity. But he never thought it might have been because God actually favored Tsuzuki over him. That was just ridiculous... wasn't it?

"It's not just in work." The ex-assassin cut into his brooding. "It's in every day life too. God hates you. He takes things away from you. Things that are precious to you... people that are precious to you... God takes them away. While other people that God likes, like that little blond boy. People like him God gives the very things we wanted."

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed as Hisoka's scolding gave way to gentle (albeit cleverly disguised) concern. The boy dusted ashes of whatever it was that blew up out of Tsuzuki's hair. Satisfied that his partner was alright, he shoved the man towards the mess with promises of obnoxiously sweet snacks when he was finished cleaning.

Slowly Tatsumi turned to the smug face of one Jei Farfarello. A barely perceptible twinge tightened above his eyebrow.

"So. You believe God hates you?"

Farfarello made himself comfortable before preaching to his rapt potential-convert.


	2. Sons of Patience

"Aren't you going to help him?" Ken eyed the shinigami's cute puppy-form with more than a little guilt. "I mean, he didn't _mean_ to."

"That's right 'Soka. I didn't-"

"No." Hisoka bit out tiredly. "I'm not helping. You broke it. You clean it up." Behind him, a red-haired man huffed. Hisoka wasn't completely sure if it was in approval or disgust. Whichever it was, he did not appreciate it from some random dead person who was only here because the chief lost their paperwork. As if he _needed_ this guy's opinion.

"But I mean... he said he was sorry..."

"Maybe if he cleaned it up on his own he would be less likely to break something next time."

Hisoka bristled at the emotionless voice behind him. He did _not_ need any help disciplining his partner, thank you _ very_ much.

"But Aya-n..."

"But 'Soka..." Came simultaneous whines.

"Don't call me Aya-n."

"My name is Hisoka!" Came two simultaneous retorts.

The blond and the red-head glanced at each other briefly, meaning that Hisoka glared and Aya stared with usual cold indifference.

"It's alright Hidaka-san!" Tsuzuki grinned brightly. "I'll clean this up and in the meantime you can go get me some cake from the fridge."

"No." Aya and Hisoka chorused. They glared at each other again. Aya shrugged and gestured as if to say 'you may go first.' The young shinigami bit back a sharp retort.

"Tsuzuki, you can have cake after you've finished cleaning up." Tsuzuki drooped and trudged towards the giant splats in the hall.

"Ken. You aren't allowed anywhere near the kitchens."

Ken's face visibly fell. "But! I'm not going to-"

"I will not risk destroying someone else's equipment."

"But..." Aya's gaze changed from cold indifference to frigid and threatening in record time. Ken's voice trailed off and his shut his mouth with an audible snap.

For a moment Hisoka was tempted to ask this Aya to teach him the ways of the 'Evil eye which shuts the partner up'. For a moment. Then he went back to being annoyed.

Over in the far corner of the office, two girls squealed in what could only be described as fiendish delight. In another corner, a trio of raucous laughs erupted. Aya shuddered at the thought of just what his other teammates were doing.

"Kurosawa-san?"

"It's Kurosaki," the boy snapped.

Aya twitched, the urge to slap the brat almost too much to bear. But he was a quick learner. Things weren't always what they appeared to be in this realm. The last brat that had been rude to him turned out to be the embodiment of Naraku, prince of war. Apparently the gold eyes were supposed to be a dead give-away. The war prince was not too happy with a katana shoved up against his throat and it took a great deal of Omi and Ken pleading for forgiveness (and Yoji hitting on Mrs. Naraku's Mother) before the furious not-brat had backed down.

Aya glanced casually over at the boy. No, it was best not to risk it. Who knew what he was capable of?

"Kurosaki-san," Aya corrected less than graciously. "Is there somewhere that is less..." Cue boisterous laughter and an 'It's so CUTE!' "...noisy?"

Hisoka twitched at yet another outburst from the two corners. "I'm afraid it's always noisy. Everywhere."

"Not even a library?"

"There is a library..." Hisoka conceded. Mournfully he eyed his paperwork. Finally he sighed in resignation. "Follow me."

"Me too!" Ken had been quiet for so long that Aya had almost forgotten he was there.

"No. The point of me leaving is to find some peace and quiet. That is not possible with you there." If it were possible for the stocky young man to deflate, he would have done so. "If you want something to do then offer to help clean. Even you can't blow up a broomstick." The insult must have gone right over his head, because Ken was instantly next to Tsuzuki, cheerfully taking over the scraping of ashes from the floor while the shinigami manned the dustpan.

"This way," Hisoka mumbled tiredly.

At the library he turned to leave, more than happy to abandon the red-haired man and get back to his ever-increasing paperwork.

"Where can I find ancient Chinese literature?"

Hisoka blinked. Odd. This guy didn't look like a scholar. "It depends on what you want."

"It's called 'Journey to the West'."

"You...you've read that?"

The man shrugged. "To chapter 30. Can't find the last 70 chapters. Here might be the best place to look."

This was the closest Hisoka had gotten to a smile in over a week. "It's here. I'm at the part with the land of spiders."

Aya nodded, as impassive as usual. But, if one were to look really hard, one might find just a hint of interest in his eyes. "That chapter was characterized by political commentary."

"Right." A not-quite-cheerful, but not-as-cranky-as-usual Hisoka led the way to his favorite niche in the Ju-Oh-Cho library. "Politics in China in the 1500's was...


	3. The Children in the Pink

"You're cute." Yuma ruffled the boy's hair.

"You're really cute," Saya agreed. "Almost as pretty as a girl."

Omi blushed and ducked his head. "Thanks."

For a second of silence Saya looked at Yuma, and Yuma looked at Saya. "KAWAII!" They screamed, launching themselves at the boy and wrapping him tightly in their arms.

"C...can't breathe!" Omi choked out. Their stranglehold loosened, but only minutely.

"You're not as pretty as Hiso-chan, but you don't run away when we try to hug you." The girl on his right giggled in his ear. He assumed it was probably a compliment.

He should have known. The moment the group had walked into this office a boy his age had called him maniac-bait. A tall orange haired man had said something to the effect of 'throw them the boys and make a run for it.' The intimidating secretary had regarded him and Nagi silently before pronouncing that their sacrifice would not be in vain. Some other guy had attempted to inform him of the 'baptism of snuggle'.

Nagi was smart. Nagi had disappeared. Nagi must have some anti-cuddling defense mechanism that sensed the approaching of fan-girls.

"You would look sooooooo cute in a Pink House dress!"

Omi had no such defense.

He had considered running for it. But the secretary...Tatsumi... had said that to process their paperwork he needed a lack of distractions. Which basically meant: 'bear it if you ever want to see outside this office and have a peaceful afterlife'. So once again, Omi took one for the team.

"Have you ever worn a dress before?" The girls regarded him a little too closely for comfort.

"Um...once..." he admitted. "For a mission. I was undercover."

"That."

"Is."

"So."

"CUTE!" They recommenced their snuggling.

"I have got to see what he would look like in Pink House's Spring line!" From somewhere Saya pulled a very pink catalog.

"Ooooh! Number 7. Number 7!" They held the page up next to Omi's face and squealed in delight

"It's perfect!"

"Number 7 matches your eyes!"

"And 10! That would look so _cute_ with his height!"

"Two would be good, but its too far down in front. We need something like... NUMBER 21!"

"Aiee!"

Omi's neck felt as if he was watching a ping-pong match from a seat on top of the net.

"I just can't _decide!_ Maybe the goth-loli one?"

"No. It has to be plain lolita. He needs light colors."

"What about the yellow one? With the lace."

He chuckled nervously as they both sighed. "Mmmm... lace..."

"I have made a decision," Yuma said suddenly. "We can't choose until we see him in them. This demands a shopping spree."

There are many reasons why Omi was against this shopping spree. One had something to do with male pride. Second and more importantly was the frightening glint in the secretary's glasses when he instructed Omi to keep his new 'friends' away from anything that will cost the office money.

"Um..." Omi interjected intelligently. "You could just PhotoShop it."

The sudden silence was just as painful as the previous screeching.

"What's PhotoShop?"

_'Yes!'_ Omi rejoiced to himself, glad for the distraction. "You can take the picture of the dress and put it over the picture of the person you want to see it on. Actually, there are some really sophisticated modeling programs that let you use a picture of the person and create a 3D model. Then you can move it into any position you want and create any sort of clothes for the model to wear. Some of them can look really realistic: it takes an expert to tell it's a fake sometimes."

He wondered if there really were crickets chirping in the background. "I..." he ducked slightly, a little bit embarrassed. "I sometimes had to create blackmail photos to get information."

"So let me get this straight," Saya said in her 'pondering' voice. "You can take a picture."

"Right."

"Any picture of anybody."

"Well sometimes it helps to have several pictures showing different angles of their face, but yes."

"You can take these pictures and put them into the computer." Yuma took up the questioning.

"Yes."

"And you can create a computerized person-thingy that looks just like the person in the picture."

"Something like that."

"So it's like a 3D computer paper doll?" He wasn't sure he really liked the look that these girls were giving him.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"That we can put Pink House clothes on."

"You have to scan in the picture of the clothes and make them into models as well, but eventually yes."

"DO IT!" They screeched. Yuma commandeered the nearest computer from the orange-haired man and Saya steered the young ex-assassin towards it.

"This is the person!" Saya up-ended her purse on the desk and a rain of photos poured out. "His name is Hiso-chan!"

"Will this be enough?"

Omi glanced at the mountain of pictures of the blond boy from earlier. "Yeah. This will do it."

He had done this so often it was practically second nature to him. Ju-Oh-Cho had the fastest internet connection he had ever seen! (And that was saying something because Kritiker spared no expense when it came to information gathering.) By the time he had finished choosing several of the good pictures that didn't include red-eyed rage, everything had downloaded and installed and was running. Omi had to physically refrain from shedding a happy tear.

Saya and Yuma watched his every keystroke as if it defined their lives. When he finally leaned back, satisfied, he knew their speechlessness wouldn't last long, and he awaited the explosion.

"IT'S SO CUTE!!!!!"

"You like it?"

"Omi-chan, you're the best!" A pair of kisses on his head made him blush again. "Put the black one on!" Obediently Omi clicked and dragged the model of the black dress onto the virtual Hisoka.

"Now the blue one!"

"The red one!"

"The white gloves!"

The littlest ex-assassin made Saya and Yuma's afterlife a much more delicious place.

"High heels!"


	4. In vino veritas

A/n: don't really like this one as much as the others. Oh well -shrugs-

xx

"Sometimes life isn't fair."

"Afterlife," Yoji corrected with no hint of malice.

"Yes, yes of course." Watari waved his hand. "Sometimes you forget you're already dead." Recently evicted from his computer, Watari stared ruefully at the backs of squealing girls. "My poor experiment! And I was so close too."

He paused, as if expecting someone to ask what he was experimenting on. No one did.

"It's a sex change potion!" The same unenthusiastic silence greeted this newest proclamation.

"Weiss, got a light?" Schuldig leaned in to light his cigarette. Apparently both he and Yoji were of the opinion that carrying grudges over into the afterlife was far too much work to be worth it.

'_It's not the same,'_ he thought over to the German. _'Doesn't feel as good when you're dead.'_

'_Hope the beer ain't this bad.'_

'_However bad the beer is, the sex will be worse.'_

Schuldig snickered. _'Some of us like to remember who it was we went to bed with last night.'_

'_And the rest of us are smart.' _

"No." It was a second or two before Yoji realized the German wasn't speaking to him.

Watari blinked, startled by the sudden break in the silence. He stared confusedly at the guy whose orange hair out-shined his. "What?"

"We're not gay."

"I wasn't thinking that!" The scientist protested. Apparently his lie wasn't convincing. Two pairs of disbelieving eyes fastened on him. Quickly he switched tactics. "You were doing that 'silent conversation' thing. You must admit, it _is_ suspicious."

'_Schwartz, what's he thinking now?'_

'_That we'd make good women.'_

'_I'm gonna kill him.'_

'_Already dead kitten.'_

'_I'm gonna kill him again.'_

_'Good luck.'_

"We really should be getting along. I mean, every one else is!"

Omi struggled for room to breathe in the 'Strangle-hug of DOOM' while Aya played 'Who-can-out-glare-who?' with some kid.

Heads turned back to Watari. "Well Tatsumi and your friend seem to be doing okay..."

"The only way to have revenge on God is to hate him back! Make all of _his_ loved ones suffer!"

Yutaka Watari plowed on, unfazed. "What are some of your interests? Maybe we have something in common! My interests are women, the female mind, the female body, sex-change potions-"

"Why the hell would you want to be a woman anyway? God knows what goes through their heads sometimes." Schuldig shot a 'don't encourage him' glare, mentally accompanied by several choice words in German and Japanese.

"That's the _point_! Think about it! You'd finally be able to understand the previously buried mystery that is the female mind! And you could finally have the last word in an argument!" Watari jumped from his seat, not noticing the chair crashing to the ground behind him. "A whole new realm of existence! Everything you ever wanted to know about women! Experimenting all you want with this, that and whatever! You would be famous! Men throughout history will hail you as pioneers! Legends!"

"Not interested." Schuldig pulled out another cigarette and lit it with his dying one. "Had enough of female mind to last eternity."

"Why me?" Yoji whined, his head sliding down to thump on the desk. "All I wanted to do was to die with a cigarette in my mouth, a babe on my lap an a beer in my hand. Was that too much to ask?"

"Well," Watari, somehow managing to _still_ be cheerful, chirped brightly. "There's no helping it then. Gentlemen, let's get drunk." He reached into Yuki-kun, his cold-air-maker and keep-cold-a-nator, and pulled out something that looked suspiciously like beer. The labels were in French, so they couldn't be sure.

Schuldig wrinkled his nose in distaste when Yoji shrugged, took one of the offered cans and knocked back half. "You're drinking something from a man who's trying to make a sex-change potion?"

"I'm dead."

"Good point."

xx

"An'... an' he's so _stingy!_ An' he never has any fun an' he says my 'speriments are... are _stupid_! An' he hoards money like...like..."

Yoji patted his back, torn between sympathy for a familiar plight and mirth at a guy who couldn't hold his beer. "I know all about Ice-princess teammates."

The German snorted. "Acting all damn superior."

All three agreed heartily, each supplying his own off-color descriptions of anatomies, sexual statuses and possible cures.

"Bloody buzz-killer!" Leave it to Crawford to not even be in earshot and still manage to ruin Shuldig's nice little procession towards inebriation. "More beer!"

In a few minutes, under direction from Schuldig and his ability to pick out secret stash locations from heads of departments, the trio managed to round themselves enough liquor to keep them happily plastered for the next few hours.


	5. All Seeing Green Eyes

"The percolator tried to bite you!?!" Ken stared in open-mouthed shock at the raw destructive talent of the man in front of him.

"Yes," Tsuzuki sighed. "Twice." He attacked a particularly stubborn spot with the sponge. "Watari's always bringing weird things to life."

"So it really _wasn't_ your fault! I thought you were just saying that to calm your partner down."

The footballer jumped and scooted away from the biggest black smear as it bubbled and… growled. Two sharp jabs from the broom were enough to shut it up.

"Even after I locked it in the microwave it kept crashing around." Ken nodded sagely.

"Quick thinking. I probably would have flung it in the oven. Would have been an even bigger mess. Wait, how did you fit it in the microwave?"

"Little coffee pot, big microwave."

"Makes sense."

And sadly, to them it did.

"They look like they're having fun."

"Hm?" Tsuzuki looked up and followed Ken's gaze. He smiled as Watari slung an arm around his new friends' necks and belted out the chorus to his favorite bar song. "Think we should tell them they're not singing in the same language?" German, Japanese and broken English blared, bearing absolutely no resemblance to tune.

"Think we should tell them they're not singing the same song?"

"I get the feeling they wouldn't care." The two laughed, and it felt nice to laugh with someone else.

When the last bit of goo and ash was finally scraped into the garbage, Tsuzuki straightened and stretched. "Time for cake!" He grinned back at the brown-haired man. "Hisoka hates sweet things, so you can have his slice."

Ken looked uncertain. "You sure? He won't mind?"

"He always gives it to me anyway."

To be honest, it never did take much convincing to get Ken to eat cake. With gusto, the two pounced on the chocolate cake with strawberry icing. Figuring they had been destruction-free for long enough, the two new friends set out to find their partners.

xx

The sudden change in emotion was suffocating. Moments ago the red-head was almost emotionless. He had settled as comfortably as possible in one of the library reading chairs and had immersed himself in the pages of his book. The next moment he was radiating _waves_ of fury. Hisoka shuddered, white knuckled hands gripping the spine of his own book. What could have...?

He followed the man's gaze, and heaved a long suffering sigh.

They were too far away to hear what they were saying, but it really looked like Tsuzuki was getting along with that other guy. They laughed and shoved each other's shoulders playfully. Tsuzuki draped an arm over Ken's shoulder, accidentally lowering his guard and the footballer speared the strawberry from the top of the shinigami's slice of cake. With a devious grin, he popped it in his mouth, prompting another bout of shoving and laughing.

Surreptitiously he spied on Aya over the top of his book. The redhead followed their every move, eyes narrowing dangerously. Hisoka snorted quietly, feeling just minutely superior. He at least was above petty jealousy. He didn't get all huffy if Tsuzuki had other friends...

Wait just a minute.

Hisoka's head snapped around.

Cake.

His cake.

His cake that he bought with his money.

His cake that he bought with his money to share with _his partner_!

He was _saving_ that strawberry, damn it!

"Kurosaki-san."

"What." It was his fault, Hisoka thought. It was his fault for bringing that moronic, simplistic fool near Tsuzuki. If Aya was insulted by his tone, he didn't show it.

"I believe-"

A pair of indignant shouts interrupted him. Calmly he watched Tsuzuki and Ken be propelled out of the library by an invisible force, all while being squawked at by a pair of twin birds. Satisfied their library was no longer in danger, the birds barricaded the front door and went back to organizing the shelves with their new assistant.

"You were saying?" Hisoka ground out.

"It would be best for all involved if those two were kept separate. It would minimize potential damage."

"That is probably best." It wasn't a smile, but the look he gave Aya was at least civil. Minimize damage: right. That was a good enough reason for him.

The books they left on the table levitated to join the others darting chaotically across the ceiling to the tune of "A _little_ higher Nagi-kun! Yes, there! And move the one next to it down a shelf."

There wasn't even time for goodbyes before their partners set on them and dragged them off in different directions. Both the dark-haired men wondered at their partners sudden change in attitude, but chalked it up to mood swings.

"_You guys got along, huh Aya?"_

"_Whatever."_

"_Hey 'Soka, you should have play-dates more often. You're not as cranky."_

"_Stop treating me like a kid!"_

"_Here ya go Aya. Saved half my cake for you."_

"_Want the last strawberry 'Soka?"_

'_Damn it,_' flitted through the minds of both the reserved young men. The damn cake just _had_ to be unnaturally delicious.


	6. Curioser and Curioser

It was a close call.

Squeals echoed in the hall behind him.

Correction: it was a_very_ close call.

Instinctively Nagi moved faster, slipping down hallways with the ease of one who spent a lot of time being unnoticed. Bombay dealt with fans every day in that stupid flower shop. He was used to them. He could handle them. By now he was probably incredibly skilled in the dealings of fan-girls.

Prodigy was incredibly skilled in running away from fan-girls.

It wasn't that he was _scared_ or anything. Far from it. What was there to be scared of? The worst that could happen was he could be snuggled, hugged, fawned over, petted, preened, prodded, dressed up like a doll, squealed over, mobbed, forced to escape leaving torn shreds of his clothes behind and dart down a side alley and hide behind a fast-food dumpster until the manager of the store chased the girls off with a broom for blocking the entrance... No, Nagi absolutely did _not_ have any fan-girl phobias.

It was Tot. Really, he was only thinking of Tot. He loved her dearly, but when in came to smelling other women on her not-quite boyfriend she had the nose of a bloodhound. And Crawford had assured him that they would be returning to the world of the living shortly, back to Tot and her psychic ability to detect just how close Nagi had gotten to a female over a period of 48 hours. Never underestimate what Tot could do with that umbrella she always carried.

It was all for Tot, Nagi told himself as he skulked down another corridor.

There should have been enough distance between him and the squealing bags of raging hormones he had sensed approaching. The downside was he was officially lost.

His desperate retreat slowed to more of an amble. There wasn't much to see: one hallway typically looked exactly the same as every other with the only differences being the number of doors per hallway.

"Coming through! Coming through!" Startled, Nagi spun on his heel, just in time to collide with a stack of books. "Sorry! Are you hurt?"

Nagi blinked. Then he blinked again. The floating white turkey was still there, and still talking to him.

"Hey mister, you're alright aren't you?"

_'Do turkeys wear hats?'_ He wondered. Apparently they did.

"Well if you're okay then I'll be going. Nice to meet you!" The turkey fluttered around, gathering up the spilled books into a stack. He/she/it heaved the stack off the floor, bobbing wildly to keep the top books from crashing right back down. Then it bobbed merrily down the hall.

_'Alice in wonderland,'_ Nagi thought to himself, following the floating turkey for no other reason than it was going somewhere. _'Down the turkey-hole. Turkey nest? Do turkeys make nests?_'

"No! Nononononono ... stay up, stay up, please stay up?" The top book had no intention of staying up.

Nagi caught it, absently levitating it just before it hit the floor. Startled, the turkey flapped its stubby wings, sending the rest of the stack of books after the first.

"You know you could have helped me 5 minutes ago!" It said, floating among the levitated books. Nagi shrugged.

"You didn't ask."

Turkey must have been used to dealing with stubborn people.

xx

"Oh no!" The younger bird, (Gushoshin, _not_ Turkey, Nagi was primly informed) whined, peering through the library doors. Elder Gushoshin glanced over from his perch on Nagi's shoulder.

"What's wrong? No, not that one; the 'Annotated History of Lycanthropy'," he directed.

"It's Tsuzuki!"

Elder Gushoshin froze. Younger Gushoshin floated in circles, alternating between tossing worried glances at the door and calculating damage costs. "Lock the doors Brother!"

"It's too late. He's already inside! Our poor library! We just got it finished last week!"

"Nagi-kun." Nagi found it difficult to keep a straight face while a solemn bird floated at eye level. "Could you please throw books at him until he leaves?"

It was inevitable. He already followed the white turkey; it was inevitable he would have to battle through the deck of jokers.

"Is he that bad?"

"Seven seconds." Younger Gushoshin piped up. "Seven seconds is all he needs to burn down a full sized library. Last time he did it in four, but he had help."

"Tsuzuki!" The purple- eyed man held his hands up in surrender when both Gushoshin screeched his name.

"I won't break anything this time, I promise!"

One fat dollop of pink icing painfully wound its way off the side of Tsuzuki's plate and landed with a splat on the carpet, where it stood mockingly against the dark brown.

There was a flurry of feathers and yells as the Gushoshin descended on the man, and on the innocent third party who just happened to be close by. Siberian, Nagi remembered. Once Younger Gushoshin started beaning the pair with 'Birth Records of the 17 th century' Nagi decided to step in. A gentle shove propelled the pair through the entrance, slamming the doors in their faces.

"The shelf brother! The shelf!" The chubby birds flung themselves against the closest shelf, shoving it against the doors. Nagi watched in undisguised amusement as Elder Gushoshin brushed nonexistent lint from his clothes, his puffed chest heaving with exertion.

"Alright Nagi...kun, we were... at Lycanthropy?" He wheezed.

Drama quickly forgotten, the birds merrily went back to their organizing.

_'I think it's safe to say'_ Nagi decided, picking up the books Abyssinian and his friend left near the back library entrance, _'that everyone here is insane.'_ That settled, he went back to being the Gushoshin's step-ladder and book-mover.

At least it was better than fan-girls.


	7. Nevertheless

"You and your companions have a tendency to make life... difficult for me." The delicate, bone-white cup tipped, spilling its contents into the empty air that was the Count's mouth. "It seems the number of candles that are put out increases with astounding regularity whenever you or your teammates are in the vicinity."

"Ah," Crawford admitted, chuckling. "We do tend to be a bit... enthusiastic. At times we simply forget about by-standers. We get caught up in the thrill of the chase, I suppose."

Count 'tsked'. "Such a shame, that poor little girl. She was what, sixteen, seventeen? Such a horrible way to die for one so young."

"Yes, Miss Taketori's death was a regrettable accident."

"Accident? Come now Crawford, you really expect me to believe that?"

Brad Crawford tilted his head slightly, as if pondering. "I suppose I _should_ have seen that possibility. A horrendous oversight on my part, one which I have no intention of duplicating."

"You'll make sure your lackey hits the boy next time, am I right?"

"Astute as always, Count."

It was hard to tell whether the invisible man was amused or not. "Flattery will get you nowhere Crawford."

Crawford had the uncanny ability to take everything in stride. The undead servant didn't faze him, neither did the fact that he was drinking tea with someone whose only indication of existence was a floating right glove and half a mask. Watson, the undead (but probably better off fully dead) servant, stood on his toes and craned to reach the table where he somewhat sloppily deposited a tray of pastries. Crawford murmured his thanks.

"I would like to point out Count, that Schwartz's counterparts, the members of Weiss, do tend to even out the death rate by eliminating some of the more... habitual murderers. We actually keep quite a precarious balance."

"A balance that would no doubt be upset should your teams remain dead."

"That is not my place to say." Brad ignored the pastries, knowing full well that they were most likely apple-filled. Eating apples from the Count's garden was a guarantee that you would be trapped in the afterlife.

"What, nothing to eat?"

"I'm afraid I must mind my weight. A certain German teammate of mine takes great pleasure in reminding me of every pound I gain."

"Shall we cut to the chase? Why should I put in a word for you?"

"Apart from the balance that I mentioned?"

The count waved his gloved dismissively. "What's a few more candles a week? I've already delegated the paperwork to the Summons Section. I have nothing to gain from this."

"You are a reasonable man..."

"You know they're getting desperate when they appeal to your sense of reason, isn't that right Watson?"

"Yesss Count."

From his briefcase, Crawford withdrew an unmarked manila folder. "Would you be so kind as to take a look at this?"

One hand folded under the mask, giving the impression that the Count was resting his chin on his hands. "What is this now?" He leafed through the sheets lazily for a few pages, before suddenly coming to a stop and flipping all the way back to the beginning and going through again, painfully slowly. "Just what is the meaning of this?"

"Rozenkreuz's latest project. They aim to create lifelike artificial duplicates of a specimen, with programmable thoughts, speech and actions. The copy would be almost indistinguishable from the original. And after the initial growth sequence when they are accelerated to the desired age, these duplicate will not age any more until they cease functioning. Imagine," Brad leaned forward eagerly, "creating a duplicate of someone who in real life barely gives you the time of day. Having your very own duplicate of the person with a mind programmed to your specifications: the single most life-like toy in existence."

Count eyed the diagrams critically. "Say for example something extraordinary, like purple eyes for instance..."

"Completely possible."

"CRAWFORD!" The doors to Count's mansion slammed open and a furious Konoe stormed into the dining room, ignoring Watson's squeals of protest. "Crawford your lackeys are destroying my office! Productivity has ground to a standstill! My engineer is in his boxers playing darts! My shinigami teams are either glued to computers or stuffing their faces with cake! What are you _doing!_"

"I was enjoying tea with an old friend until you rudely interrupted."

Suddenly realizing just whose house he was standing in, Konoe turned and bowed, apologizing to the Count before whirling back on the smug American.

"Crawf-"

"It isn't my problem if you were disorganized with my team's papers Mister Konoe." Unnoticed by all but the Count, Crawford smoothly slid his briefcase shut, hiding the pair of folders clearly marked 'Schwartz' and 'Weiss'. "Until you recover our paperwork I'm afraid you will just have to play host to my team."

"Wha..." Konoe's mouth fell open, and his eyes bulged.

"Actually Konoe," Count interrupted smoothly, "it may be in everyone's best interest to restore these fine citizens to their former lives."

"FINE CITIZENS?!?!" Konoe took several deep breaths to regain his composure. "I mean no disrespect Count, but has this man twisted your mind in any way? Is he attempting blackmail? If he is I can-"

"No need."

The balding chief looked disbelieving.

"Oh, don't be so surprised. I simply have developed an interest in a certain..._project_ that Mr. Crawford has a hand in. It would be a pity if it were never completed."

"A travesty," Crawford agreed. "I don't have the heart to deprive the world of such an enormous gift."

Konoe had never before had a feeling so stereotypically ominous. "But... the higher-ups..."

"All owe me a few favors. Never you mind about the details. Just be sure to get all the release forms for these gentlemen filed out and they can be on their way."

"But..."

"Mister Konoe," Crawford interjected, his silky voice and evil smirk more than slightly frightening. "Last I heard your secretary was summoning several people who are quite notorious for their ...rebellious tendencies. If he and Farfarello have been conversing then I suggest you defuse this before he forms an entire rebel army."

The Summons Section Chief turned a delightfully amusing shade of yellow and tore out of the Hall of Candles.

Behind his mask, Count's invisible face was probably smirking. "Well done Mister Crawford. Now about this project..."

"You may have your pick of the lot. The process may take a few years to perfect."

"I am nothing if not patient."

Gracefully Crawford rose and bowed. "I look forward to dealing with you in the future Count." He turned to leave.

"Crawford. I'm curious. I can understand Schwartz's folder. But why would you take Weiss' as well?"

x-flashback-x

_'You're not going to leave them, right?'_

_'Shut up Schuldig.'_

_'Crawford, life without Weiss would be... boring."_

_'Schuldig stop including Nagi in our conversations'_

_'Bringing assassins back to life will make God angry!'_

_'ALL OF YOU SHUT UP. Schuldig, my mind is NOT a four-way telephone to be used as a discussion forum.' He felt Schuldig reluctantly withdraw the hold connecting Nagi and Farfarello's minds to theirs._

_'Who will I play with if not the kittens?'_

_'I'm sure you will find other lives to ruin.' Crawford slid the Schwartz folder into his briefcase and turned to leave._

_'Hang on.' He paused at Schuldig's mental call._

_'What is it?' His eyes snapped with anger as Schuldig opened his briefcase and slid Weiss' folder in. "Give me three good reasons why I should take their folder."_

_'One: the only thing that distracts Farfarello from his vengeance against God is hurting the kittens. Peace and quiet Bradley, every evening you could think because Farf was busy plotting kitty demise will be gone for good. Two: without Bombay to compete against, Nagi will slack off and spend the rest of his life playing video games and eating junk food. Three, if you EVER want anything from me again, and I do mean ever, you'll take the damn folder."_

_Crawford walked out with both folders._

x-End flashback-x

Crawford smirked mirthlessly. "Peer pressure."

xx

"From now on we are back to being enemies."

Aya nodded, fully agreeing with the Shwartz leader. "We'll never speak of this again." He snatched Yoji's lighter and carefully set fire to the Weiss folder. For a brief moment it was a flare of orange in the dark alley-way. Crawford smoothed the collar of his jacket unnecessarily: apparently not only was it impervious to blood, sweat, falling debris and salt water, but also to life-death planar leaps.

Crawford and Aya turned to go their separate ways. It was a full three steps before they stopped and scowled back at their teammates.

"The download speed was _incredible_! Meifu servers are... a beautiful, beautiful thing." If one didn't know better, one would assume Omi was swooning. "Serves you right for running off."

Nagi sniffed, feigning disinterest. Finally: "Exactly how fast is 'incredible'? Just an estimate. For curiosity's sake. Not because I care or anything."

"Prodigy... have you ever heard of trigabytes per nanosecond?"

"...No."

"Good. I made it up."

"That fast?"

And Omi and Nagi weren't the only ones lost in their own little world.

"So that little dingy one on Eighth street? With that one dancer who's got _all_ the right talents?"

"Ja. I just have to sneak out before Braddie makes me bring Farfarello. He thinks I'll get into less trouble if I'm the one chaperoning..."

"Bring him. Ken can babysit."

"_What?_ I've got a game! Besides, even if I didn't..."

Farfarello smiled and Ken quickly moved so that Yoji was between them.

Crawford cleared his throat loudly.

"In case you have _forgotten_, we are not best friends. There will be no sleep-overs, play-dates, shopping sprees, salon trips or any form of general outing consisting of people from both teams in civil situations."

Six pairs of eyes stared at him blankly. Ever-faithful Ken broke the silence. "Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning," Aya chimed in, "the only time Weiss and Schwartz see each other will be when we are trying to kill each other."

"Oh. That sucks." Omi sighed.

"But Braddie, we were going to get our nails done!" The German sniggered. Crawford did not dignify that with an answer.

"So Aya-n can I have a sleep-over with Shuldig's third cousin who just happens to look and sound and act exactly like him?" Aya simply glared. With a snicker and a jaunty wave, Yoji fell in step behind the red-head. The teams parted ways, once again bitter enemies.

xx

"Shuldig."

"Ja?"

"When I say no interaction I also mean no mental interaction."

Schuldig jammed his hands deeper into his pocket and hunched his shoulders.

"_Later kitten, Crawford's PMSing."_

"_Aya too. Must be that time of the month..."_

The German paused for a moment to listen to Nagi's mental whispers. _"And Prodigy wants you to tell Bombay he'll leave the CD under the loose brick on the right side of the park fountain... _

_xxx_

The End!

Well... sort of. I have an epilogue planned and I should have it up by Friday.


	8. Epilogue

Make God suffer by hurting those he loved, what an idiotic notion! Tatsumi paused in the shadowed doorway and adjusted his glasses. Yes, that Farfarello was a classic example of utter insanity and it would be best to simply ignore his rantings. Tatsumi never considered himself malicious. Tight-fisted, heartless, but never malicious. He always had a reason for completely destroying someone.

Well...

_Usually._

He stepped out onto the dimly lit platform and peered around the room. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen-"

There was a loud and pointed clearing of the throat from the front row.

"And neither," he conceded. "Welcome to our weekly auction.

"The first set up for bid is a true rarity. I received it in exchange for writing off a rather large over-expenditure of funds for personal reasons from two of our Shinigami in Hokkaido. It sounds much better than 'I confiscated it', doesn't it?" He paused for the polite titter, knowing everyone in his shadowed audience was instantly intrigued.: the secretary was not known for beating around the bush. "It had my _personal_ guarantee of the highest quality." The murmurs steadily increased. "However..."

Here Tatsumi produced a convincing expression of regret. "Our rules forbid display of pictures prior to bidding."

"Y'all could at least give us somethin' to go on!" The brown-haired secretary nodded towards the voice.

"Indeed. This collection of pictures features a single person. His blond hair and rare eyes create an illusion of innocence, although in reality he has a tendency to be antisocial and ill-mannered. He has, on occasion, been witnessed wielding a firearm. My apologies, but that is all I can say. We will start the bidding at ten thou-"

"One million!"

Tatsumi smirked. "Thank you Kanzeon-sama. Do I hear 1.1 million yen? 1.1, do I hear 1.2?"

"One and a half."

"One and a half million to Homura-san. Do I hear-"

"Two."

"Two million to Mister Hazel-"

"Three."

Three million to Hom-"

"Throw in the contact information of the artist for 5 million."

"Five million, going once, going twice, sold to Kanzeon-sama for five million yen."

_'It's not Konzen,'_ Kanzeon thought, a smile playing at the edge of her (His? Its?) lips at the disgruntled faces of the other bidders, _'but he will do.'_ The smile grew into a delightfully evil smirk after the first few pictures. She/he idly glanced at the contact card Tatsumi slipped into the packet. _'Looks like I'll need to send some extremely good luck to this Tsukiyono. Mmmm.. such a delicious model...'_

xx

Somewhere, Hisoka sneezed.

xx

"Next item up for bid is an exquisite set of virtually unbreakable handcuffs, intricately designed and crafted by Dragon-Lord himself...


End file.
